


Those Damned Owls

by thefruitsofmysoul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefruitsofmysoul/pseuds/thefruitsofmysoul
Summary: In which owls make educated guesses based on the vague orders of their owners.





	1. A Special Connection

Lord Voldemort was by no means a very sentimental person. The only form of affection he had ever received in his life was the admiration he got from those who followed his leadership throughout the years. Needless to say, he hadn't the slightest clue on how to respond to when a person, aka Bellatrix, so… _blatantly_ threw themselves at him.

Bellatrix, despite being female, was Voldemort's best lieutenant among the Death Eater ranks. Her Cruciatus curses were matched by none, and she wouldn't bat an eyelash if Voldemort asked her to Avada Kedavra her own husband, Rodolphus. Granted, what she and Rodolphus had was a loveless arranged marriage, but the sentiment was still there; Bellatrix was unwaveringly loyal to Voldemort.

Consequently, Voldemort decided to send Bellatrix a letter outlining his appreciation for her. Of course, he could have just summoned her and demanded that she listen to him, but he knew that he didn't always have the best way with words when it came to face-to-face interactions. The temper he inherited from his "father-who-shall-not-be-named" was the cause of that.

Once finished writing the letter, Voldemort nodded in appreciation of his superior penmanship. He didn't smile unless it was at someone's expense, so his nodding would have to do. He called for his owl, Lucifer, and gave him specific instructions.

"Deliver this to the one with whom I share a special connection."

Lucifer tilted its head at Voldemort, accepted the letter in his beak, and flew off…to the one he thought Voldemort had a _special connection_ with.

* * *

One morning, early on in his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter received a letter from an owl with stark white feathers and blood red eyes in the Gryffindor dorms. As Harry's only living relative were muggles, and he hadn't done anything to incur the wrath of the Ministry of Magic _this time_ , he was baffled as to who would be sending him a letter. If the Weasleys wanted to get in contact with him, they would've used the fireplace, or at least their own family owl, Errol.

"Blimey Harry." Ron said as he stared at the odd owl in disbelief, "Who's sending you a love letter this time?"

Harry rolled his eyes. His status as the "Boy-Who-Lived" led him to be the center of female attention quite often, but he doubted that one of his admirers would be sending him a love letter with such a frightening looking owl.

Nonetheless, Harry took the letter from the owl, frowning as the owl stayed in place by the windowsill. He reckoned that its master gave specific instructions not to leave without a response. _Great_.

With a shrug, and a standard thought of _what could possibly go wrong in my life now_ , he opened the letter…and immediately wished he hadn't.

_To My Other Half,_

_You know, first and foremost, that I have never been good with displaying emotions other than murderous rage or cool disdain. As such, you must be surprised to be receiving this letter from me, but I cannot hide my true feelings any longer._

_You, my dark soul, are the light of my life. No, that's too muggle-like. You are a star. You shine brightly, through the way your eyes light up after every Crucio you cast, after you see the light leave the eyes of one who does not agree with our cause._

_To put it shortly, if I didn't want you to live an eternal life with me, I wouldn't hesitate to make you my next horcrux._

_You have always been loyal to me, even more than you are to your own husband, and if I were still capable of boyish joy, you would make my cheeks color in adoration. To some, your obsession with me is unhealthy, but to me, it is just what I need in my life._

_From an early age, I have been abandoned by those who were supposed to be close to me. My mother was too weak to bear giving birth to me. My father…will never be discussed. The children at the orphanage only followed my lead because they knew what I would do to them if they dared defy me. Even after being thoroughly exposed to the Wizarding World, everyone I came into contact wanted to stifle my talents._

_But not you._

_You always encouraged me to be my most ruthless. You always reassured me that I was doing the right thing and for that, I will forever cherish you. May we always share a special connection._

_You deserve a reward for all of your loyalty. When you receive this letter, meet me in the attic of Malfoy Manor._

_Maybe if you're lucky, I'll Slytherin to your Chamber of Secrets._

_~Lord Voldemort_

Once he had finished reading, Harry had a look of disgust on his face, the lightning bolt scar on his forehead being diminished to a random assortment of lines with how hard he was frowning.

_Slytherin to your Chamber of Secrets?_

Taking Harry's silence as permission to read the letter, Ron did just that. When he had finished reading, he wore the same look on his face that he did that time he accidentally hexed himself into barfing up slugs.

"Bloody _hell_." Ron choked out.

Silence dawned upon the two before Ron got a devilish look on his face.

"Here's what we can do."

* * *

By afternoon of the day that Lord Voldemort sent his letter, Lucifer came back to him with a response. With a smirk, he opened the letter. He _knew_ Bellatrix wouldn't have been able to resist him.

_My Lord,_

_I am afraid that I do not share your sentiments. I am in a faithful relationship with my education. For a dark wizard, you sure give poor instructions to your owls. If it hasn't dawned on you who the receiver of this letter is yet, allow me to give you a few clues:_

  1. _You have always had a morbid fascination with me._
  2. _Our age difference would never allow this to work. I'm still a minor, even in the wizarding word._
  3. _We do, in fact, share a special connection, but by no desire of my own._
  4. _Let's just say that you make me burn white hot every time we think on the same page._



_I know you like playing rough, if the scar you left on me is any indication._

_~Harry J. Potter_

_P.S.: I can't wait until the next time we meet, so our wands can connect with one another once again._

At reading the letter, Voldemort scowled darkly, incinerating the letter with the heat of his dark magic. He vaguely heard Lucifer _hoot_ before he turned to face the owl, glaring darkly at him.

"Avada Kedavra."

The owl dropped dead in front of Voldemort, stiff and unmoving. To Voldemort, it almost seemed as if the owl was smiling at him, even in death.

With a heavy sigh, Voldemort reclined in one of the chairs in the room, resting a hand on his forehead.

 _This_ was exactly why he didn't have feelings. Something always went wrong.

It was too bad that he wouldn't get to Slytherin to anyone's Chamber of Secrets...


	2. A Christmas Misunderstanding - Part 1

By the end of 1996, Lord Voldemort had figured out a simple fact. People, despite the looming threat of a second Wizarding War, were never too sullen to celebrate the Christmas season. Even those around him were slightly more jolly this time of year.

Snape almost smiled.

Pettigrew _almost_ didn’t look as cowardly and weak as he did on any other day of the year.

The Lestrange brothers toasted one another, grateful for their first year out of Azkaban since 1981.

Even _Bellatrix_ didn’t seem quite as insane on this day.

The fact of the matter was that everyone but Voldemort was willing to accept the literal magic of Christmas. As a young boy, he never really had anyone in his life to make him cherish the season, and though he had spent many years observing the obvious cheer of both muggles and wizards alike around this time of year, he himself had never managed to feel the stirrings of happiness about Christmas.

He supposed that one thing he could be grateful for this year was his new owl, Menace. In hindsight, _Menace_ wasn’t the most creative of names, but it certainly fit the appearance. With blood red eyes and a pitch black body, Menace proved to be a fairly demonic looking owl…certainly more than that idiot of an owl _Lucifer_. It had been a few months since the debacle between Lord Voldemort, a misguided Lucifer, and Harry Potter, all in the name of love of course. He had merely been trying to send Bellatrix a letter but somehow, that damned owl got the impression that the one he had a “special connection with” was Harry Potter.

Shuddering deeply at the thought of that mishap, Voldemort scowled. His new owl would be a lot better. He had taken great care in finding an owl that both looked intimidating and was able to follow directions. If only because of the spirit of the season, and the fact that the majority of his Death Eaters were inebriated anyways, he was determined to make a second attempt at wooing Bellatrix. Of course, he could just tell her of his… _feelings_ in person, but he wouldn’t be the Dark Lord if not for his mysterious allure.

With that thought, Voldemort prepared a letter to be sent to Bellatrix, making sure to be very specific with his intentions. Once satisfied with his letter, he, almost tenderly, stroked the feathers on Menace.

“Deliver this to the one who makes my Christmas worth living for.”

Menace, much like Lucifer, tilted his head at Voldemort before taking the letter in his beak, flying off to deliver the letter.

* * *

Bright and early Christmas morning, Harry James Potter woke up at the Burrow, stretching languidly as he slowly shook the remnants of sleep away. This year, he opted to spend Christmas vacation at the Burrow with the Weasleys, as his only living relatives – the Dursleys – were inhospitable.

His faculties were forced into high alert when Ron slammed the door to the attic open. As he was staying with the Weasleys, and the latter had invited guests in addition to their large family, Harry ended up sharing the attic with Ron.

“Bloody _hell_.” Ron groaned as he entered the room, flopping down dramatically onto Harry’s bed.

Shoving Ron off of his sheet clad legs, Harry rolled his eyes.

“Merry Christmas to you too good buddy.” he murmured sarcastically.

Ron dangled a necklace in front of Harry’s face, the words on said necklace unclear to Harry without his glasses. Sighing, as Ron maintained his position, Harry put on his glasses, making the words clear to him:

_My sweetheart_

“Well, she _is_ your girlfriend.” Harry paused, a grin appearing on his features, “Sweetheart.”

In annoyance, Ron thumped Harry upside the head, causing the latter to glare at him in disbelief.

“How could she think I’d like something so…feminine?” Ron shuddered, pretending as if Harry never spoke, “Like, yeah, I get that Christmas is a time to be grateful for what you get, but come on! This is ridiculous.”

Before Harry could respond, a soot colored owl flew through what Harry originally thought was the closed window of the attic, dropping a letter unceremoniously into his lap. At this, Harry frowned. The last time he received a letter from an owl with those color eyes, it was a love letter from Voldemort, and he did _not_ want a repeat of the last time.

Summoning his courage, Harry opened the letter. Just like last time, the owl refused to leave until it got a response to carry back to its master. As soon as Harry began to scan the letter, he immediately felt sick.

_My Dear One,_

_It has come to my notice that you did not, indeed, receive my last letter. No matter, I have found a new owl to carry out my letter delivering needs. This owl should not fail me. Otherwise, it is sure to meet a similar end as my previous owl did._

_As I mentioned in my last letter to you, I am not a man of overbearing emotion. The very idea of displaying emotion makes me shudder…and not in the good way. However, I am willing to place all of that aside for you._

_In honor of the Christmas spirit, I would like to leave you with a bit of humor. I, as I’m sure you’re well aware of, have always been a fairly charismatic and humorous person._

  1. _The idea of spending the rest of my life without you is simply…riddikulus (No, I’m not asking you to marry me, so keep your honeymoon wear to yourself please)._
  2. _I Siriusly am enamored by your wit and insanity. Never change._
  3. _I would love to Ron Weasley my way into your Chamber of Secrets._
  4. _I know it’s Lestrange, but if you were missing your clothes, I’d let you Slytherin to my bed for safe-keeping._



_That’s just a touch of my charm. I don’t want to overwhelm you before the first date. I expect that after witnessing my fine creativity on the battlefield and on parchment, you will be able to think of nothing else but how much you can’t bear to be apart from me._

_I still won’t rescind my offer to Slytherin to your Chamber of Secrets. Let’s make this a toasty Christmas for you and I, yeah?_

_~ Lord Voldemort_

Harry closed his eyes tightly, trying in vain to remove the horrific imagery that plagued his mind. Who the **hell** did Voldemort desire so much that he would resort to sending love letter? And why the hell did these letters keep coming to **him**?

He vaguely registered as Ron snatched the letter out of his grasp as he opened his eyes, taking in the words quietly. Seemingly over his own gift, Ron’s face slowly turned red as he bit his lip.

“Ron?”

At the sound of Harry’s voice, Ron lost all composure and began laughing. He clutched his stomach in an effort to stop laughing before abruptly falling off the bed, his guffaws throwing him completely off balance.

“Everything alright in here?” started Fred Weasley as he entered the room with his twin George in tow, allowing the latter to finish his sentence, “We thought we heard a dying hippogriff.”

Ron was too caught up in his laughter to respond properly, stretching out his hand to give the letter to Fred. As Fred read the letter aloud, George’s eyes widened in shock, causing him to peer over Fred’s shoulder to see if what he was reading was actually true.

“I take it this isn’t the first time this has happened?” George grinned once he had gotten over his shock, a wide grin on his face.

Harry face-palmed in response, only removing his hand from his face when he felt Fred’s hand on his shoulder.

“There’s an easy fix for this.” Fred cracked his knuckles, “But first, we’ll need all the puns we can find, a lot of bird feed, an aphrodisiac, firecrackers, a muggle tape recorder…”

“An aphrodisiac?” Harry choked, but Fred continued, as if he hadn’t heard Harry speak.

“And lots of WonderWitch products.” he finished, turning to George, “George, open up shop. Weasleys Wizard Wheezes is presenting a custom-made gift box for you-know-who.”

About an hour later, around the time that Molly Weasley was ready to call the boys down for breakfast, the care package was done. Tying it together with a sturdy string, Fred gave the owl his instructions.

“Deliver this to the one Harry hates the most.”

Said owl hooted once in response before carrying the package off into the mid-morning sky.

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange was quite surprised to receive a package come Christmas morning of 1996

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all! For those of you who don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Holidays! I'm not sure if I'll be done writing the second part of this in time to publish today, but it'll definitely be ready by tomorrow. Thanks for reading!


	3. A Christmas Misunderstanding - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the second installment of "A Christmas Misunderstanding." Enjoy, and thanks so much for reading!

People didn’t often send…well… _anything_ to Bellatrix for any reason. Not for her birthday, not to celebrate her release from Azkaban, and _certainly_ not for Christmas. At least, no one ever sent her anything that she actually wanted.

Narcissa would send her frilly dresses that she thought were graceful (Bellatrix thought they were disgustingly feminine for a person of her Death Eater status).

Her mother, when she was still alive, would send her letters on how to act more like a proper, pureblooded lady, to which Bellatrix sent her response letters telling her exactly where she should shove her thoughts of femininity.

Rodolphus, her idiot husband, would send her roses, as if she of all people could be wooed by meaningless declarations of loyalty and sentimental value.

All in all, Bellatrix was quite unsatisfied with the volume of gifts she had received in the past. The one person she actually wanted to give her a gift, or any acknowledgment at all, continuously avoided her every year…Lord Voldemort. To Bellatrix, Voldemort was the epitome of what every wizard should strive to be.

He was _handsome_.

He was _creative_.

His baldness made her imagine how nicely brushing her fingers on his head would feel.

And don’t even get Bellatrix _started_ on how sexy the lack of a proper nose was. A man who couldn’t be perturbed by the stench of muggles and blood impurities made her feel tingles that she hadn’t felt since the first time she used the _Cruciatus_.

Simply put, all Bellatrix wanted for Christmas was a nicely wrapped Voldemort in knee high, lacy black stockings. Was that too bloody much to ask?

Apparently not, because as Bellatrix was caught in her musings, she was abruptly brought out of said musings by the sight of Voldemort’s new trusted owl, Menace, dropping a package in front of her. She knew that Menace went on important errands for Voldemort ever since the murder of Voldemort’s previous owl, Lucifer. When she had asked Voldemort why he had killed Lucifer, he had shot her a dirty look, mumbled something about “bloody idiots” and “hard of hearing” before walking away.

Pushing these thoughts out of her mind, Bellatrix slowly opened the parcel. Despite not being at her most sane, she was still cautious enough to open unknown packages slowly, especially if there was the potential that they could be hexed. By the time the parcel had been opened a smidge, a loud bang sounded within the parcel, several fireworks shooting out of the box and into the air. Her eyes trailed the fireworks as they raced around the air, coming together briefly before exploding in a sequence of words:

_My love, my precious dark one, how my heart burneth for thee_

As the firework display subsided, instead of the sparks heading towards the ground, several pellets of bird feed pelted Bellatrix. Luckily for her, her large, untamed hair was on the receiving end of most of the bird feed. Unable to resist the smell of the surprise treats, Menace flew, beak first, into Bellatrix’s hair, nipping eagerly at whatever feeding he could reach.

Bellatrix scowled darkly, unamused. Before she could let loose a stream of curses on the messenger owl, a letter floated down in front of her. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, another package labeled _WonderWitch_ in front of her.

Snatching the letter out of the air, Bellatrix scanned the letter quickly, expecting to find something in it to allow her to get a name or face to blame. Instead, what she found surprised her greatly.

_To my gorgeous lover,_

_I have noticed your relentless affections towards me and I must say, I wholeheartedly return your sentiments. You have always been obsessed with me, and your…er…affection for me has worn me down to the point that I can no longer deny that we have a special connection, one that cannot fizzle out, no matter how times may change._

_You alone understand the method to my madness._

_I have cried many a times in pain as a result of the connection we have. I have to confess. I didn’t want, nor ask, to feel this way at first. I swore to myself, what seems like forever ago, that I would never feel anything other than hatred for you but as I consider your relentless attention, I realize that I’m almost amused by you._

_It's as if you have no life, but you’ve devoted yourself to being a part of mine._

_As such, there are a few things I would like you to remember:_

  1. _I, despite the opinion of others, am the chosen one. This realization makes some people go Knuts, but as you are already crazy, I’ll let that sink in._
  2. _Babes, you’ve been to Platform 9 and ¾ before. I bet that by the end of this season, I can show you something fun with the same measurements (wink wink). After all, Hagrid may be big, but I can show you something even bigger._
  3. _Without you next to me every night, I’ve resorted to whomping my willow at the thought of your presence._
  4. _Anytime you’re ready to make magic, just remember…my wand is always at the ready. Half an hour with me and you’ll put that moaning wench Myrtle to shame._



_Time is galleons, so do not wait any longer. Make a move. Show some Gryffindor courage for once and stop hiding in the shadows._

_~ Your eager love bunny_

_PS: You’ll notice that I’ve gifted you with a sample of my **Beguiling Bubbles**. Do me a favor and drink this before our next meeting. I’ve made sure to place an **extra** special ingredient inside, just to help you keep up with me tonight. Come and find me._

After reading the letter, Bellatrix felt a rush of excitement flow throughout her body. The letter just _had_ to be from Voldemort. He had finally come to his senses and decided to reciprocate her affections. Without another moment of pondering, Bellatrix downed the enclosed potion in full, not wasting a single drop. She suddenly felt lust engulf her body and involuntary shivers race throughout her. She knew that she’d feel some form of longing after taking the potion, but something felt innately wrong.

Shrugging off the feeling, Bellatrix sauntered off to find Voldemort, ignoring Menace’s screeches from within her hair.

* * *

Voldemort was pleasantly surprised when Bellatrix strolled into his private quarters later on Christmas day. Maybe his new owl had use after all. He didn’t protest when she straddled his lap, her fingers immediately scraping the baldness on top of his head.

Biting back a slight moan, Voldemort held Bellatrix at arm’s length. It was then that he noticed her appearance. Her hair was covered in bird feed, and his loyal owl, Menace, was pecking at her hair.

With a roll of his eyes, Voldemort snatched Menace out of Bellatrix’s hair and threw him _Merlin-knows-where_ in the room. He vaguely heard the owl’s screech of indignance as he was ungracefully thrown.

Bellatrix lined her lips level with one of Voldemort’s ears, the smell of whatever sickly sweet concoction she had consumed previously reaching his nose as she breathed wantonly into his ear.

“ _Master_.”

At this, Voldemort smirked, his arms wrapping tightly around Bellatrix’s waist as he pulled her more firmly onto his lap. Things were finally going his way.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.” Voldemort purred, stroking Bellatrix’s back languidly.

Bellatrix nuzzled into his neck before pulling back, declaring her desires to her newfound lover.

“Slytherin to my Chamber of Secrets…” Bellatrix paused before finishing her statement with a lusty grin, “ _Fred_.”

Voldemort was confused for a moment before he shrugged it off, lifting Bellatrix up and placing her on the nearby bed, hovering over her. So what if she wanted to call him _Fred_? If muggles could do this roleplay thing, so could he.

* * *

Miles away, at the Burrow, Harry Potter, Ron, and George Weasley were doubled over in laughter as Fred Weasley stared at the video feed in shock. When sending the letter to who they assumed would be Voldemort, the Weasley twins made sure to place a muggle spy camera in the package to record Voldemort’s reaction.

“I told that owl to send it to the one you hated the _most_.” Fred lamented to Harry, pacing back and forth in the attic.

Harry shrugged, an amused glint in his emerald green eyes.

“That’s Bellatrix.” he clarified, earning an irate glare from Fred, “What? She took Sirius away from me!”

In the background, Ron was making kissy faces at Fred while George’s commentary only served to annoy Fred even more.

“Oh _Fred_.” George said breathily, wrapping an arm leisurely around his twin brother’s shoulder, “Slytherin to my Chamber of Secrets, would you?”

“Shove off.” Fred said darkly, brushing his brother’s arm away as he turned back to Harry, “But I had this all planned out. Why the hell does Lestrange want me to…to…”

Ron grinned widely.

“Slytherin to her…” he started before Fred cut him off with a “You’re not helping Ron!”

Harry thought about it for a moment before an idea dawned on him.

“Remember when you showed the WonderWitch products to Hermione and Ginny?” he queried, earning a nod from Fred, “Don’t the love potions in that brand cause the drinker to fall in love with the giver?”

At hearing this, Fred paled.

“But, the aphrodisiac was supposed to dilute…” Fred began before he face-palmed, “Stupid, stupid, stupid! Basic love potions 101. Such a rookie mistake.”

As Ron and George continued to guffaw, Fred slumped down onto a nearby chair, placing his head in his arms. Ron, sensing his brother’s discomfort, placed a hand on his shoulder in what he thought was a comforting gesture.

“If it makes you feel better.” Ron started, his seemingly kind nature being betrayed by the Cheshire grin on his face, “If you ever have a…er... _dry spell_ , you have an older woman waiting for you. She’s even started practicing moaning your name.”

At this, Fred shot out of the chair, having to be restrained by George to keep him from strangling Ron.

Despite the chaos in the room, Harry smiled serenely to himself. He would finally be able to put the love letter drama behind him.

As his scar began to tingle, he couldn’t help but think of the Chamber of Secrets. Harry pushed this thought aside. As long as the Dark Lord would stop pestering him with love letters, he would be just fine.


End file.
